In the Louisiana bayou, the bond between alpha and omega burns hot and dangerous.

Kevin was a beautiful contradiction of vulnerability and fury wrapped in pure sex appeal.

It was all I could do to hold my wolf in check. If I pushed too hard, I’d lose, and I couldn’t afford to lose Kevin. Already, this omega had become precious. I hadn’t come here to find a mate, but that didn’t matter. The omega was mine and I was his, whether we liked it or not.

His name was Blaze, and Kevin was playing with fire.

Our eyes met. It was just dinner. Blaze kept to the boundaries of our agreement, but I wanted more. I’d never felt this way about an alpha. Blaze was everything I wanted and everything I couldn’t have.

Alpha Blaze is an action-packed mpreg romance novelof 63,000 words with hot werewolf bikers, bad language, smutty smexy-times, knotting, betrayal, and a guaranteed happy ending. Warning: this book contains a tough-as-nails omega struggling to overcome a painful past (incl. rape trauma and miscarriage) and a strong, sensitive alpha who will do anything to win his omega’s heart.

If you love your mpreg romance with a dollop of angst and a healthy helping of action, start reading Alpha Blaze today!

As I slipped into the Scion pack’s industrial kitchen, heat laced with tomato and Cajun spices hit me like the leading edge of a storm. My skin tingled. Kevin hadn’t seen me yet. Or smelled me, but he would. Soon. Most of the time, Kevin acted more like a caged animal than the living spine of Baton Rouge’s heroin and gun trade.

Kevin perched on a tall stool in front of the large metal countertops beside the stove. He tapped the nub of his pencil rapidly down what looked like, from the doorway, printouts of a five-column spreadsheet. His attention flitted between those and an open, wire bound notebook. I'd seen him carry it before. Baby blue pastel with three kittens meowing on the front.

The uncooked books.

Sweat blossomed from my chest, trickling beneath my T-shirt. Kevin didn't look immune either. His short sleeved, white button-down shirt was stained the pits with sweat, and his blond hair clung to his forehead in sticky strands. He took a heavy dishcloth from the counter and wiped across his forehead.

Kevin looked too sweet to be a criminal. He looked too sweet to have killed his mate when Caleb, with Red’s blessing, had taken Kevin out on the Bayou to claim him. Kevin had been seventeen. Now he was twenty-one with hard gray eyes. A killer’s eyes? Sweet Kevin with a sharp yellow number two pencil, two pots of gumbo, and a notebook with kittens on the cover. Maybe he’d done it. If so, maybe he’d had a good reason.

Kevin cocked his head and bit lightly on the pencil’s eraser. Already half hard from watching him work, my cock rose to full mast at the thought of those lips wrapped around it.

Jeremy’s words came back to me. Everyone’s interested.

To have those steel gray eyes focus on me with the same attention he was giving those papers, to have those lips part as I breached him -- what the hell was I thinking?I had better manners, and much better sense than to mix myself up personally with the Pack Alpha’s nephew.

I must have shifted my weight, or moved, or maybe the scent of my arousal had penetrated the tomato and spice of the gumbo, because Kevin gave a start. He closed the notebook and spun the stool around to face me.

"Dinner is at six," Kevin said. His expression was guarded.

"I need help with these receipts." I pulled them out of my pocket, twelve of them folded in the center, along with the income report I’d deliberately fucked up.

"Just drop them at the office. You've been here two weeks. Someone should have told you."

“They did. It’s these papers too. They don’t add up.” I closed the space between us, holding the receipts and paperwork out like an offering. He was tense, but trying not to show it. And not the kind of tension I wanted. He smelled of fear. Though to his credit, his expression, one of stiff annoyance, betrayed nothing.

I wanted to erase that crease between his brows and press my thumbs into his shoulder muscles while I nibbled kisses against his neck.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

About the Author

Pennsylvania native, Quinn Michaels is a fan of fantasy, werewolves and M/M mpreg romance! She strives to write action-packed adventures of romance, self-discovery and second chances, all served up with a hefty helping of sweet, sexy Omegas and hot, determined Alphas who will do anything to cherish, love, and protect their mates. She also enjoys the sexytimes!